Gan Jin secretly sighed watching Boss Liang’s markedly different attitudes toward Fen Tu Kuang Ge and Duan Feng Bu Er. Every text describing the warriors of the Zhen Ce Dynasty claimed they were a group respected by the entire Dynasty, even by His Majesty the Emperor, but they failed to clarify that the truly respected warriors were not those at the bottom rung, but those possessing formidable strength. "The three of you, prepare to depart," General Feng waved his hand. "Pack your weapons, and then proceed to the Quartermaster’s depot to collect a piece of soft leather armor each."

Many mercenaries cast envious glances at the departing trio. As mercenaries, they had to earn every piece of equipment themselves through paid work; even a piece of soft leather armor represented a significant expense. These three, just beginning their journey as warriors, were receiving one for free.

Gan Jin found a quiet tent to ponder his next move and ultimately decided against taking out the Zhan Ma Dao from his Battle Realm. Having both hands occupied by a blade was simply too conspicuous. Instead, he merely hung a quiver of arrows at his waist and, carrying the She Yue Gong forged from battle-grade refined iron, walked back toward the group.

The mercenaries paid little attention to Gan Jin and his powerful bow. True warriors always favored close-combat weapons like blades, spears, or swords. Unless one possessed the Yi Yu bloodline lineage of an archer, the status of an archer had never been particularly high. Even if the strong bow in hand looked exceptionally beautiful, it was nothing more than a… counterfeit!

The offspring of some high officials or nobles, lacking true strength but desiring to appear dashing, often commissioned weapons that looked exquisitely crafted and powerful but were utterly useless.

Where there is demand, a market naturally follows. The art of 'False Forging' was quite popular in the Dynasty’s major cities now. Weapons might look like battle-grade artifacts, but their actual utility might not even be enough to extinguish a large bird.

The attention of the mercenaries remained mostly fixed on Fen Tu Kuang Ge. At such a young age, and without possessing a bloodline warrior status, achieving the rank of Demon Subjugator was enough to capture anyone’s gaze. There might be opportunities to meet again in the future, so it was wise to start building rapport now.

Duan Feng Bu Er strode forward unconcerned, a twelve-foot-long spear resting on his shoulder. The shaft curved slightly under the pressure of his arms resting across it, indicating good elasticity, while only the spearhead caught the sunlight, reflecting a faint, cold glint.

The mercenaries didn't pay much heed to Duan Feng Bu Er or his spear. While a shaft made of white waxwood was decent, it certainly didn't qualify as a truly fine weapon.

Gan Jin glanced at the tip of Duan Feng Bu Er's spear, and a hint of approval flashed in his eyes—it was a battle-grade spearhead. Placing it on an ordinary white waxwood shaft was certainly a way to keep a low profile.

The three Centurions finished their inspection, confirming no contraband was present. General Feng gave a grand wave, granting the merchant caravan passage.

The trio walked down the middle of the formation, each carrying their weapon, mimicking the other mercenaries by constantly observing their surroundings. [The Demon Race is the sworn, eternal enemy of the Zhen Ce Dynasty.]

This iron law had been deeply etched into the mind of every citizen of the Zhen Ce Dynasty, but what did the Demon Race actually look like? What was their way of life? Not all citizens knew. Gan Jin’s knowledge was limited only to what he had read in books; he had never seen a Demon in person.

Upon leaving the Earth Fort, the atmosphere within the caravan grew palpably tenser. All the mercenaries displayed their professional training: two spurred their horses ahead as scouts to probe for information, while the others remained highly alert, their nerves taut as they watched their surroundings.

Between the Zhen Ce Dynasty and the Demon Race lay a stretch of land that belonged to neither jurisdiction. The width of this area varied; sometimes it spanned hundreds of li, remaining ungoverned by either side, while at its narrowest, it was merely ten or so li, perhaps even just a few, serving as a buffer zone.

If the border were right at their doorstep, fighting would be constant. Through years of warfare experience, both sides had tacitly agreed to maintain a certain distance.

The ungoverned territory between the Demon Race and the Zhen Ce Dynasty, starting from the Earth Fort, was about one hundred and fifty li wide. In this area beyond the jurisdiction of either faction, it was a paradise for thieves and bandits. Demon robbers, human mountain brigands, and steppe horse-thieves all congregated here.

It was not an uncommon sight in this lawless zone to find a raiding party comprising members of the Steppe tribes, the Demon Race, and humans all operating together.

Merchant caravans hired mercenaries largely for protection against the brigands plaguing this stretch of road.

The caravan had traveled barely a few li when a clear, sharp, arrogant snort echoed from one of the carriages.

Gan Jin’s peripheral vision immediately registered who had provoked the displeasure of that beautiful yet haughty female mage: Duan Feng Bu Er!

Duan Feng Bu Er had managed, in just a few li of travel, to become quite friendly with the coachman. He was now sitting inside the carriage, leaning against the straw, smoking a cigarette, basking in the sunlight and feeling the gentle breeze, as relaxed as if he were on a casual outing, displaying none of the necessary tension or vigilance expected of a guard.

Sitting beside him, driving the cart, was the very same coachman from the third large wagon! His rough hand held a cigarette handed to him by Duan Feng Bu Er, and faint wisps of blue smoke curled out from under his cap.

Could it be? Had he also detected something amiss with this coachman? A sliver of doubt crossed Gan Jin’s eyes just as an eagle's cry suddenly rang out from the sky.

The mercenary guards immediately tensed. Two archer mercenaries, armed with strong bows made of Nanmu wood, instantly drew arrows, nocked them, and aimed skyward at the flying eagle.

A scout eagle used by mountain bandits! Gan Jin had read about brigands in books; some used humans for reconnaissance, while others employed animals—eagles, swallows, or even a rabbit hopping on the ground.

However, since plump wild game like rabbits were often shot and killed by mercenaries for their evening meal right after being spotted, bandits rarely used rabbits anymore to prevent their painstakingly trained assets from becoming the guards’ dinner. Eagles were now a common scouting tool used by both bandits and even armies.

Whoosh, whoosh! Two swift arrows left the bows, soaring upward. Their speed increased as they ascended, but their momentum soon faded. The eagle in the sky barely shifted its wings, leaned to one side, and caught the arrows cleanly with its talons.

It tilted its head back in the air, emitting a few calls that sounded mocking. It circled the crowd once, then dropped the arrows back to the ground. "Tch! Can't even shoot down an eagle. And you call yourselves mercenaries?" Aibijia cast a cold sneer over the archers, "You have the nerve to charge a fee?"

The two archers’ faces flushed crimson with embarrassment, and they lowered their heads. Regardless of the reason, this eagle was flying far higher than an ordinary wild eagle, and failing to hit it was certainly a shameful outcome for mercenaries.

Hearing Aibijia’s words, the other mercenaries showed varying degrees of anger. Since joining the caravan, they had endured her constant caustic remarks almost daily, yet she possessed the strength of a Third-Tier Mage and was a member of the Mages’ Guild.

"Oh my, it seems you archers and warriors always need the support of us mages. Without our magnificent mages, you lot are useless," Aibijia said, holding her exquisite staff and slowly rising from the soft goose-down cushion. Her ruby-red, robe-like magic gown billowed in the wind. "Let me lend you a hand, so you can also grasp just how mysterious and powerful magic truly is."

Aibijia slowly raised her fine staff and began softly chanting the incantation to activate the spell. Her spiritual energy gently communed with the ruby set in the staff. She chose not to use a magic scroll, which would have activated the spell instantly, but opted for a verbal chant.

Gan Jin watched Aibijia’s performance and let out a helpless chuckle. Many mages shared this strange obsession: most of the time, they felt compelled to show off their chanting ability, preferring to slowly gather and align magical elements rather than using the simpler, more effective method. If she were fighting Huang Quan, she would have lost all ten of her lives by now.

"Spirit of the Fire Element, heed my call and appear!" Aibijia’s staff glowed crimson. The light twisted and gradually coalesced into a stream of fire. "Ignite! Firebolt! Strike down that lowly target!"

The Firebolt erupted with a bang, shooting straight into the sky, charging toward the soaring eagle with overwhelming force. Where it passed, it left a faint crimson streak, as if threatening to ignite the heavens.

The eagle saw the rushing Firebolt and instantly banked in the air. It spread its broad wings wide and suddenly clamped them together, whipping up a powerful gust of wind. The fiercely charging Firebolt shrank under the wind’s force until it became a faint flicker of flame, and then vanished entirely.

A momentary, profound silence fell over the caravan. Gan Jin saw the mercenaries’ faces turn beet red—they were struggling to suppress laughter, afraid to offend the mage. Such a fiercely powerful Firebolt had been completely fanned out by the eagle’s wings; this outcome was far more humiliating than the arrows being caught.

"Hahahahahaha…"

The quiet caravan suddenly erupted in loud, joyous laughter. Duan Feng Bu Er rolled back and forth on the straw inside the carriage, laughing hysterically, his hand holding the cigarette repeatedly wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Hilarious! That was fantastic!" Duan Feng Bu Er gasped for breath, looking at Aibijia. "Hey, pretty girl, are you so bored with the journey that you’re deliberately doing funny things to entertain us? It was very amusing! Truly too amusing! If you ever can’t find a job, you should go work in a circus. Imagine you launch a Firebolt and a mouse blows it out—that would be a guaranteed hit."

A: Double Monthly Tickets, less than forty-eight hours remaining for the final push... To all comrades, if you still have Monthly Tickets, send them over! Thank you, thank you! F